


held on as tightly as you held on to me

by ganseytheking



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, I have feelings???, Martinski, Stydia, here is my present ta da, lydia martin x stiles stilinski, pre-episode 14, stiles stilinski x lydia martin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ganseytheking/pseuds/ganseytheking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which something unexpected becomes a blessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	held on as tightly as you held on to me

**Author's Note:**

> woah, dude. this is my first ~published fic? how. I really hope you like it, I tried to work in the idea of stiles being worried that the darkness would never go away which was a really interesting concept to create a story around. enjoy!

It feels like hands have wrapped around him and are squeezing him slowly until he breaks. Blindly, because it’s hard to tell what’s what through this blur, he reaches out, hoping someone will take his hand and pull him out of this panic. But he is alone, and it doesn’t work like that. It never works like that. He can’t call out for help, can’t scream, can’t even plead for mercy to whatever unknown force is causing this because there is just simply not enough air. He claws at the invisble hands, his cheeks wet with tears that he didn’t realize he had wept, his blurry vision tainted with dark spots. He doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to die, because it does, it does feel like he’s dying.

And then Stiles is awake, gasping for air, drenched with sweat, and is suddenly aware that he is screaming. He closes his mouth and sinks back into his pillow just as his dad bursts through the door. Stiles is shaking, his hands taking fistfuls of his sheets as he tries to steady himself. The sheriff takes him into his arms and holds him, painfully reminded of a time eight years before now when he had held Stiles exactly like this. Stiles curls into his dad, beginning to cry again, wondering how many more nights will end up like this before he really loses his mind.

He spends the rest of the night staring at his ceiling, refusing to fall back asleep and succumb to the nightmares again. Briefly, he feels the ghost of those invisible hands choking him, and shudders, feeling his throat to make sure that he is safe. The sun rises before he is ready for it to, but he forces himself to get up and do something useful because what’s the point of laying in bed and waiting to go insane?

There is a plate of eggs waiting for him on the kitchen table when he goes downstairs, and as much as he appreciates the effort his father has been making to help him, he has no appetite and puts the plate in the fridge. He leaves, locking the door behind him, getting into the Jeep and throwing his backpack into the front seat. All of his movements are robotic, routine, and yet somehow he ends up in front of the Martin house with no memory of deciding to go there. Choosing to just roll with it, he gets out of the car and walks up the incredibly long driveway to the front door and knocks. It takes a moment for anyone to answer, and when the door does open Stiles realizes he has no idea what to say- and then Lydia is standing there with tired, questioning eyes in her bathrobe, her hair wet and her face clean of makeup. Stiles has seen Lydia naked before (by accident, but it counts), and yet somehow seeing her in front of him like this she seems more vulnerable and more naked than ever.

She stares at him in surprise for no more than five seconds before leaning against the door and putting her free hand on her hip. “May I ask why you’re at my house without any notice,” She glances behind her briefly before looking back at him. “An hour before school starts?”

Stiles himself is startled at the time, having not noticed that he had left home half an hour before he regularly did. “Uh...” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck. How was he supposed to explain that he driven to her house without any realization that he had done so?

But this was Lydia, and Lydia knew exactly what it was like to find herself somewhere different than she had intended to go. “I kind of just ended up here.” He explains, shrugging lightly.

Lydia isn’t blind. She sees the dark circles under his eyes, sees the way he is almost constantly tense and how his eyes often scan his surroundings as if he is waiting for something to go wrong. She squints up at him, scrutinizing his face, not at all embarrassed that he is seeing her without her makeup or her hair all done up. Makeup was her war paint, but she did not need it to be a warrior.

Lydia takes his hand and pulls him inside the house, shutting the door behind him. Momentarily, he is thrown back into his nightmare when he had been wishing for exactly this- a hand to pull him out of the rut he was in. Of course, she had only pulled him into her house, but that to Stiles was more than being left to deal with his mind alone.

“I’m not done getting ready for school, so you’ll just have to wait for me to finish so we can talk.” She says, walking towards the stairs. She’s still holding Stiles’ hand.

“Talk?” He asks, because when did he tell her he needed to talk?

Lydia turns around, droplets of water falling off of the ends of her hair. “Stiles, I’m your anchor. Do you really think you can just show up at my house without knowing why and get off without talking to me about it?” Raising an eyebrow, she pivots and heads up the staircase.

Temporarily, Stiles indulges in his inner hormone-crazed teenage boy long enough to admire how _nice_ Lydia’s legs are.

When he reaches her bedroom, he takes the time to study everything in it because on the other occasions he’d been in Lydia’s room, Stiles had been solely focused on her. He wanders around, looking at all the things in his sight, because now that he and Lydia are actually friends he’s warier of poking around her things. He can only look, anyway. The whole reading thing is still a tender subject. Eventually he plops down on her bed, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with them mindlessly.

A few minutes later, she glides through the door, her hair dry and styled but her face still bare. Stiles tries not to stare as she looks through her closet for the day’s outfit, but he can’t help it. He’s fascinated by her, the way she holds herself, the way she moves. A skirt and top in her hand, she closes her closet doors and her gaze meets Stiles. “I have to change.”

Stiles jumps up from his place on the bed. “Yeah! Right, gotta change. Gotta do that.” He stumbles over his words and just stands there, watching her mouth form a smirk.

“That means you have to leave the room, honey.” She’s repressing a laugh at the puppy dog look he has on his face, eager and confused. “Just give me a minute.”

“Sorry, yeah, I’ll just wait outside.” He shakes his head and hurries out the door, grimacing as he exits.

After a couple of minutes he moves to knock on the door but it swings open right before his knuckles make contact. Abruptly, Stiles notices how short Lydia is without her heels and unconsciously grins at the fact. She cocks her head in confusion. “What?”

Stiles blinks. “Oh. I was just noticing how short you are.”

She narrows her eyes and then snorts, moving towards her vanity. He follows her back into the room and re-assumes his place on the bed. Once again, he’s completely captivated by her as she sits down and starts with her makeup.

“You know that you don’t have to wear makeup, right? You’re totally stunning without it.” He speaks up as she raises the mascara wand to her eye. She pauses, and then smiles.

“I like it.” It’s all she replies with, but he figures it’s a pretty good answer because she’s Lydia Martin and if she likes putting on makeup then why protest against it?

He’s impressed by how little time it takes for her to finish and scoots over on the bed when she comes to sit beside him. She leans sideways and props her elbow on her pillows, resting her head in her hand and looking at him. It’s funny how differently she acts compared to the first time he had visited her here, even despite the drugs she had been on that time. Stiles chooses not to dwell on that and mirrors her position. It’s almost intimate, how close to each other they are now, but neither of them acknowledges it and keeps focused on the other.

“So?” It’s a simple question, and he laughs at it, because whatever he answers will be anything but simple. “Don’t laugh, Stiles, come on. It’s not like I can’t see those wonderful bags under your eyes.”

“And?”

She frowns and is quiet, thinking deeply. Stiles gives in and glances at her lips. Thankfully, she doesn’t see. He shifts his arm into a more comfortable position.

“I want to help you, but I don’t know how.” She says finally, furrowing her eyebrows.

He studies her expression for a minute, the wrinkle between her eyebrows and the way her nose is slightly scrunched and she’s frowning softly. Without really realizing what he’s doing, Stiles rubs her arm comfortingly, as if Lydia is the one that needs to be comforted. “It’s not something you need to help me with, Lyd. I can handle it on my own.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and sitting up. He raises an eyebrow and sits up as well, leaning forward to look her in the eyes. “Lydia, I’m serious, just because you’re my anchor doesn’t mean I’m gonna burden you with whatever the hell is going on with me.”

Lydia shakes her head and swallows. “You don’t get it, Stiles. I was exactly where you were a few months ago, okay? I know exactly how you’re feeling. The nightmares, the uneasiness, the constant anxiety that something bad is going to happen. I originated turning up somewhere without meaning to. I was who you are now, and you were there for me, as horribly as I treated you back then. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry Stiles, I know I can’t make up for some of the things I did, but I can try by helping you. In order to do that you have to let me help you, okay? Let me help you.”

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s because there’s still lingering doubt in the back of his mind that this is reality. Maybe it’s because of the way she’s looking at him, determination and pain in her eyes. Maybe it’s because he’s still very much head over heels for her. He doesn’t know why. But he does it.

Stiles surges forward, taking Lydia’s head in his hands and pressing his lips against hers. She freezes up, her hands flinching in surprise, but her eyes flutter closed and the tension in her shoulder disappears. He kisses her, satisfying his nine year long thirst for this kind of intimacy with Lydia. She hesitates, not yet kissing back, trying to think through all of the possible outcomes of this action, but her head gets cloudy with desire for him that she’d been denying for the past few weeks and she puts her arms around his neck, pulling Stiles closer. Eventually, they break apart, and Stiles moves to sit further away from her, clasping his hands in his lap and trying to process what he’d just done, what Lydia had just done in return. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed _Lydia Martin_. And she’d kissed him back. There’s no way he had just imagined that.

He sneaks a peek at her, seeing that she’s sitting in shock in almost the same position he is. He grimaces, “Look, Lydia, I’m sorry, I was totally crossing a line there, I’m sorry.”

Lydia turns, biting her lip, unsure what to say. “I...”

Stiles is suddenly filled with panic. Did she not mean to kiss him back? Was it just the heat of the moment? Did she hate him now? He looks down into his lap, severely hoping that she isn't planning on killing him for kissing her now.

And then her hand is on his shoulder, and she has this look in her eyes, and she closes the distance between them and now she’s the one kissing him. All he can think about is how he still has a year left in his ten year plan but apparently he no longer needs it. Stiles deepens the kiss, and for the first time in forever, his feelings for Lydia are enough to make him forget his descent into insanity. 

Lydia breaks the kiss but keeps close, her face just inches away from his. “We’re going to be late for school.” She informs him, but she doesn’t move.

“We’ve got time.”

“Stiles.” She says quietly, putting her hands on his shoulders. “We can talk about what just happened later. Right now, we need to talk about you.”

Stiles sighs, pulling away. “I don’t know what you expect me to tell you.”

“Did you have another nightmare last night?”

He nods.

“And then you just found yourself on my doorstep?”

“Yeah, but I doubt the two are related. The nightmare stuff is all from dying or whatever, when we went under to save our parents. I probably just showed up here because you’re my anchor.”

Lydia purses her lips and he can’t help but notice that her lip gloss is ever so slightly smudged, reminding him of the kiss.

Focus, Stiles.

“What I don’t understand is why Scott and Allison aren’t getting nightmares, they’re being plagued by two different things entirely.” Lydia points out.

“We’re all affected differently. I can’t read either.”

“But why do you get the nightmares and lose your ability to read and they’re only dealing with one thing? It just doesn’t make sense!”

“Losing my ability to read is a nightmare, okay? Reading is my thing, it’s what I do, it’s the only thing I’m useful for. I research, I figure things out.”

Lydia looks sad.

“What?” He questions.

“That’s not the only thing you’re useful for.” She tells him quietly.

Stiles scoffs. “Yeah, well, it’s the only thing I can do to keep everyone safe. I don’t have wolfy powers, I can’t work a bow or a gun, and I don’t have the ability to find people by screaming. Now I can’t even research. I’m completely useless.”

Something he said has upset her because at some point while he is talking, Lydia gets up and starts pacing around the room with her arms crossed. “Dead people, Stiles! I find dead people! And that’s all I do! Exactly like Cora said. All I do is find the bodies. It’s not a gift, it doesn’t help me protect anyone, it just tells me how to find the next mangled, bloody body of someone that I probably know. That’s not a gift!”

“Woah, that’s not what I meant,” Stiles protests, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Look, all I meant was that at least you have something. You are something. I’m nothing.”

The redhead stops pacing and stands facing him. “You’re not nothing. You’re everything. You’re like the glue, you hold everyone together. From what I remember, you’ve actually saved a lot of people countless times, and if that isn’t something then I don’t know what is.”

“What if it never goes away?” Stiles asks, giving up.

“What if what never goes away?”

“The darkness. What if it never goes away? What then?”

Lydia looks down, inhaling deeply and then walking over to sit beside him again, taking his hands in hers. He’s shaking ever so slightly and she squeezes his hands tightly to comfort him. “It will. I promise you. We’ll figure this out. And I will be here, every step of the way.”

Stiles clenches his jaw and then nods, squeezing her hands back.

“Come on. Let’s get going. We’ve missed enough school already. I’ll help you with reading when you need me, okay?”

“Okay.” He agrees, and then they get up together and walk downstairs, Lydia still holding one of Stiles’ hands.

Just before they reach the door, Stiles stops, making Lydia look back at him. “What?”

He grins and pulls her towards him tightly, snaking his hands around her waist and kissing her deeply. She laughs in surprise but returns the kiss, choosing to ignore all of the worry she had about starting down this road with Stiles of all people. Really, who would have thought that she would fall for him?

“Okay, now we can go.” The tall boy grins as they pull apart and he tugs her towards the door which he opens for her. “My lady.”

She snorts and walks outside. “Lock the door before you close it.”

Stiles chuckles and does what she says, hurrying after her into the Jeep. They were going to have to do a lot of explaining when they met Scott and Allison at school.


End file.
